‘Haven’t you ever smoked a joint before?’ asked Dora, breathing the smoke in deeply.

Nell hadn’t wanted to say no, that she’d led a sheltered life in Sevenoaks.

It had been too late the night before to unpack nightdresses. ‘Shall we all wrap our sheets round us,’ Dora had suggested with a laugh, ‘and appear as Greek goddesses?’

And so they had.

Rather unromantically, their host’s name was Geoff and he lived in South Kensington, a trustafarian no doubt. He had rented the house for the whole summer. He surveyed them all, a libidinous glint appearing in his eye even though it was eight in the morning: ‘Well, girls, I see you’re dressed for an orgy.’

Through a subtle system of antennae they all agreed it was time to go and edged towards the stairs, threw on their clothes and bade him farewell. His face as they waved goodbye had been a picture. Clearly, he’d expected to sleep with at least one if not all of them.

Laughing, they’d bumped their suitcases down the steep and narrow cobbled street, narrowly avoiding donkeys carrying huge loads and interested old men with caps and huge moustaches sitting on wooden chairs outside their homes, until they found what seemed to be Zanthos’s only cafe.

They had ordered thick Greek yogurt with honey that tasted like the food of the gods and played ‘Black Magic Woman’ on the jukebox, not yet knowing it was the only pop music track the establishment possessed.

Nell had looked at the others and sighed with happiness. ‘I have definitely woken up in heaven. I don’t care if I never see Sevenoaks again. One thing –’ she paused before demolishing the last spoonful of her yogurt – ‘where are we going to sleep tonight?’

It was Moira who had surprised them all.

She had been on the same landing as they had at college, but not really part of their friendship group. Coming as she did from the wilds of Lincolnshire, she lacked the sophistication of the townie. And then there was her problem with kilts. Her wardrobe seemed to possess no other type of outfit. ‘Probably her school uniform,’ said Dora, who was already flirting with the outrageous fashions of Zandra Rhodes.

Moira was also a lot more dedicated to her studies than the rest of them. Their goals were more to do with having a good time than getting a First. But, as usual, it had been kind-hearted Penny who had included her in the invitation all those years ago. ‘Three is never a good number, and anyway how can we not invite her when she’s studying classics and we’re going to Greece? Besides,’ Penny had added unconvincingly, ‘she’ll be able to fill us in on the Greek myths.’

This, they had discovered, had turned out to be only too true.